Rivers of Blood
by TimeLordOfGallifrey
Summary: A slightly complicated river-god sends the boys on a quest to Britain to find a sacred weapon to kill the god, however, things get a little more complicated when Jack the Ripper returns and they stumble across a gang of three hunters from all over the UK. Demons soon join the party and the boy start to wonder whether this is all conneceted... but to what? And how? Scenes of gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I have no idea when I'll finish it but I will _try _to update it fairly regularly. All things Kripke are not mine.  
Hope you enjoy and I promise it will get more exciting later on, please review because I love to hear what you think.**

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Sam gasped for breath. The thing, whatever it was, had him by the throat. His body was being crushed into the brick wall of the warehouse. It's gnarled blue face was twisted in an evil grin, gaping eye sockets stared into Sam's hazel eyes. His gun lay metres away from his dangling toes. The gaping sockets suddenly glowed a devilish blue and Sam immediately found it harder to breathe. Ice cold water gradually began to fill his lungs. Just like the other victims... several gunshots rang out and the creature spun round, dropping Sam onto the cold hard concrete floor. The silver bullets lodged themselves in its scaly hide and the creature hissed, spraying water everywhere. It made one final lunge at Dean, missing him completely, and scrambled off through the open window.

"Sam!" Dean yelled and ran over to the limp form of his brother. Sam wasn't moving. "No no! Come on Sammy, wake up!"

His eyelids fluttered "It's Sam, jerk." he spluttered and coughed up water all over the floor. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know." Dean said, his racing heart slowing to a regular pace now Sam was awake and okay-ish.

"Can we go?" Sam asked weakly.

"Totally." Dean replied quickly and helped Sam to his feet. "How can you eat all that salad and still weigh more than me?" he grumbled and half carried half dragged Sam back to the car. Sam garbled something unintelligible as Dean packed him into the passenger seat. His large head flopped against the window and he fell asleep with his face smeared across the glass. "Such a girl." Dean chuckled softly to himself and got into the car,

The Impala grumbled to a halt in the motel car-park. Dean touched a hand to his shirt, it was laced with stains of, now clotted, blood. "Wake up Sammy."

"Shut up Dean." Sam slurred, "And it's Sam."

Dean poked his brother in the chest, "Dude, I'd be happy to let you sleep in the car. Thing is, we've got yellow eyes to worry about. Sticking together for now Sammy."

Sam groaned and slogged out of the car, walking automatically to the boot to fetch his bag. They walked into the lobby, ducking under a collection of dream catchers of all shapes and sizes that hung on the door frame and on lengths of string that ran from one side of the room to the other.

"So. We've got five stiffs. All drowned on dry land. All men between 20 and 24." Sam mumbled once they had settled into their room, he was going over the details trying to check if they had missed anything. When they had gone into that warehouse they were not expecting something new and unknown.

"Well, that explains why ugly went after you. But what is it" Dean asked sitting slouched on his motel bed with a pack of Cheetos in one hand and his laptop on his knee.

"Well I've found a few possibilities, but no definite match yet."

"And?"

"Could be a Selkie, unlikely though. Or –" Dean cut him off.

"Or what?"

"Abandinus, a Celtic river-god."

"I've never even heard of either of those things and they do not sound native at all." Dean remarked.

"That's 'cause they're not."

"Well where are they from then?"

"Selkies are Scottish and Celtic gods were worshipped in Celtic Britain – around six or seven hundred BC."

"What the hell is it doing here then? And how do we kill it?" Dean asked

"I don't know but as to why it's here? Well I may have an idea."

"Spill." Dean stuck a handful of Cheetos into his mouth.

"Could be a cursed object, some charm maybe?" Sam shrugged, "I'll keep digging."

"Well." Dean pushed his laptop off his knees and pulled his shoes on, "I'm gonna check out the warehouse again and then grab some coffee."

"Dean!" Sam protested, "I almost died and you're planning to go back?! Are you crazy?"

"Dude, I'm 27. Won't want me anyway." he winked at his brother and, with that, left.

Whilst Dean was out Sam continued his research. He decided to look into Selkies first, after all, gods were a pain in the ass to deal with.

"Pentland Firth... Orkney...whirlpools... fishermen." he muttered as his eyes scanned the page, nothing of importance yet. "Long time ago blah blah blah, man lived in a small cottage, was a fisherman, lived by the shore. Selkie hunter." that perked his interest. "Needed to feed his wife and bairns... went fishing one day..." A quick search told him that 'bairns' was an old Scots word for kids. He kept reading but nothing more was of much use to their case. Nothing matched the creature that attacked him. So he moved on to the Celtic gods. "Yay..." he muttered sarcastically.

An hour or so later Dean wandered back in and dropped a pack of jam doughnuts onto Sam's desk.

"Thanks." Sam yawned and popped a whole one into his mouth.

"So what d'ya find then Sammy boy? Sam mumbled something unintelligible, "Fine I'll wait 'til you've finished your doughnut." Dean smirked and plonked himself down on the bed.

Sam finished up his doughnut and began to speak: "So it's definitely not a Selkie."

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked.

"Well unless we're chasing a Scottish shape-shifting seal that turns into a human every now and then when it sheds, then we're hunting the Celtic god Abandinus."

"Well that's just peachy." Dean grumbled.

"But, the good news is that I think I may have figured out what brought it here."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Some ancient goblet. It was used in rituals, like, sacrificial rituals. It was brought over from some ancient burial ground by an archaeologist, Dr Lionel Ross. The very next night he died a threefold death."

"That's supposed to mean something to me?"

"A threefold death was supposedly suffered by kings, heroes, and gods. They die in three ways at once: strangulation – hanging, asphyxiation – drowning or poison, and some fatal wound to the body. Ross was found hanging from his shower head with his heart on the floor and lungs full of water."

"Well somebody did not want that goblet to be moved and I'm guessing that ugly is attached to it somehow. Where is it now?"

"Possibly in some storage facility. The guy had no family so possibly an auction house?"

"I'll look into it." Dean said and pulled up his laptop. "You figured out how to kill the bastard yet?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his floppy brown hair, it was vaguely greasy and could do with a wash. He'd wash it when he found the time. "I'll look into it." he said and both brothers turned to their screens. The loud tapping of keys on the keyboard filled the room, the noise bounced off the baby blue walls while they worked.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam began to turn around but still had his eyes glued to the screen. He closed the tab and faced Dean.

"They're auctioning it off tonight. We've got around three hours before the auction hall is open and snobby guests come barging in. You got anything yet?"

"Yeah actually I do." Sam replied, "There's this sacred bronze feather. We melt it down into bullets I reckon we stand a chance at killing the thing."

"Awesome." Dean pulled up a plan of the auction house on his screen and grinned in that excited way of his, "Lets plan a heist."

Sam held up his hand, "There is one thing you should know about the feather."

"Oh?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It's in England."

"New England?" Dean asked hopefully.

"No. God save the Queen, England. The original one."

"Well how are we gonna get there?" Dean asked, dreading the answer.

"Plane to London, then to Cambridgeshire. The feather's at some place that used to be sacred, it was called Durovigutum. So we nab the goblet and get the first flight out."

"Flight?" Dean groaned, "You're serious?"

"Yeah I'm serious, a flight Dean. I'd say we've gone further for less but we haven't actually gone further and I'm pretty damn sure I'm right."

"I'd like a bit more than pretty sure."

"Okay." Sam smirked, "Really pretty sure." Dean rolled his eyes and Sam stuck out his arms like an aeroplane and started making engine noises.

"Shut up Sam." Dean grumbled and threw his shoe at Sam, who ducked and cracked up laughing.

"Sorry man" he sat back down and threw Dean's shoe back at its owner, "But you're going to have to get on that plane. Unless you want me to go by myself?"

"Fine dammit! Bitch." he added under his breath.

"Jerk." Sam retaliated with a cheeky smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Please bear with me for the first few chapters, they're necessary for the set-up. Things will pick up. In the mean time, hope you enjoy it and please review.**

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The Winchester brothers stole silently through the dark room, guided only by the light of their torches. The room had a musty smell and stank of dusty rooms in old houses.

"Right." Sam said quietly, he was tackling this methodically. Unlike his brother Dean who was looking in any old box and under any old sheet to find the goblet. Sam deduced that the goblet would be out, if it was going on sale in a couple of hours then it would not be in storage. His eyes scanned the room searching for something, anything, that would indicate the whereabouts of the goblet. The beam of light from Dean's torch landed on a table at the far end of the cavernous hall, it stood proudly next to a large mahogany door and was covered with a clean white sheet.

"Let's try there." Sam said and shone his own light on the table.

Dean shrugged, "As good a place as any." They headed over to the table and with one movement Dean swiped the cover off the table and dumped it on the dirty stone floor. The surface of the table was littered with goblets of all shapes and sizes, a few ancient necklaces and earrings adorned with jewels filled the empty spots on the table. "Well that's just great!" Dean muttered with a twinge of annoyance, "How do we know which one it is?"

Sam shrugged, "We look?"

Dean picked up the nearest goblet in a haphazard manner, he ran his fingers over the engravings and held the torch between his teeth. He put the goblet back down and took the torch out of his mouth, "Egyptian." he concluded, "The guy with the mutt for a face was on the side. Anubis or something."

"This one too." Sam muttered putting another golden goblet back in its place.

Both boys reached for a small silver goblet at the back but Dean got there first and scooped it up in his fist. "Whaddaya think?" he asked Sam.

"It's not silver." Sam said after a moments thought, he shone the light of his torch onto the metal, "Pewter maybe, Celts were into that. The metal of kings according to them."

"Dude, when have you ever needed to know that?"

Sam rolled his eyes and continued to inspect the goblet, he spotted some Celtic knots running around the rim. "Definitely Celtic. I think this is it." he said and Dean shoved the cup into his jacket pocket.

The screeching of a door at the other end of the hall, dragging over the concrete flooring, made both men jump. In a shambles, they shoved each other towards a window not far from where they both had stood seconds ago. The clip clop of high heels on the cold floor drew nearer with every second. In sync, they switched off their torches and shoved them into their pockets. Dean stuck out his hands and gave Sam a leg up to the window and by the time the owner of the clip-clopping shoes rounded the stack of boxes the Winchesters were nowhere to be seen. The only strange thing she noticed, other than her enormous beehive hairdo, was the white sheet carelessly abandoned on the floor and the window swinging back and forth on its hinges. With a rosy lipped frown she picked up the cloth and draped it back over the table. In her haste to get things ready for the auction, she didn't even notice an empty spot at the back of the table that once held an old Celtic goblet.

The Winchesters ran through the car park and quickly bundled themselves into the Impala, speeding off before security could be alerted and made to search the building and surrounding areas. Both men looked at each other and shared a look of suppressed laughter. Sam caved first and laughed into his left hand while his right rested upon his knee.

"That was close." Dean said with a grin and thrust his hand into his pocket, he chucked the goblet at Sam, "Think fast."

The thing landed in Sam's hands, bouncing around between them until he managed to catch it properly. "Shut up." he said to Dean even though his older brother hadn't said a word. Sam knew his brother well enough to know what he would be thinking.

"Didn't say a word." Dean said with a smirk, "So anyway, what do you think?"

Sam shrugged and ran his hands over a series of endless knots that ran the circumference of the rim. In an instant the windows of the Implala exploded inwards and Dean swerved off the road and into a mess of bushes and trees. They both raised their hands to shield their faces from the flying shards until the car ground to a halt, it's wheels presumably tangled up in leaves, roots and vines, a scaly hand reached in through the broken passenger side window and gripped Sam firmly around the shoulder, it's hawk-like claws ripped through his shirts and dug into his chest. "Dean!" Sam yelled with a mixture of pain and fear in his voice as he was dragged out through the window, his hand was still wrapped in a fierce grip around the goblet. The material of his jeans and the skin of his legs snagged and tore in the broken glass surrounding the gaping window frame, Sam grunted in pain and threw the goblet back into the car. The seconds the metal lost contact with his skin, Abandinus vanished and Sam fell onto the grass with a thud. He heard his brother's door open and heavy footsteps race around the car.

"Sammy! You okay?" Dean asked and helped him into a sitting position and scanned the area, "Where'd that dickhead go?" he asked seeing neither hide nor hair of the puny god. That asshole had signed his death certificate several times over for even laying a hand on his baby brother.

"I'm fine Dean, don't worry." Sam gave his brother an encouraging smile. In reality his legs stung like hell, "I just may need a new pair of jeans." he glanced down at his chest, the puncture wounds weren't deep but they were still bleeding, "And maybe a new shirt."

Dean smiled, Sam was still able to joke so he should be okay by the time Dean patched him up. He helped his brother to his, somewhat shaky, feet and leant him against the Impala. "Stay." he ordered "Whilst I clear up the glass." Sam rolled his eyes but wisely obliged. Dean took off his jacket and brushed the glass off both the seats, finally, he picked up the goblet, knowing that since he was 27 Abandinus wouldn't want him, and wrapped it up in his jacket before chucking it into the backseat. Sam clambered in and Dean followed suit. He revved the engine and tried to reverse back onto the road, but with no such luck. Grumbling to himself, he climbed back out, snapped open his pocket knife and set about severing the roots that held the car in place.

"Sure you don't want me to help?" Sam asked but was met with an impatient wave from his brother, Sam took that to mean something along the lines of "stay put".

Once Dean was finished, a good five or ten minutes later, he slunk back into the car. "Okay," he said "_Now_ we can get back to the motel and get you all cleaned up."

"Dean I already told you," Sam said with his puppy dog eyes, "I'm fine."

Dean concentrated on the road so that he wouldn't get sucked into that hypnotising stare, "The colour of your jeans begs to differ."

Sam looked confused for a second and looked down at his legs, the dark patches around the tears in his jeans were blood, and there was a lot of it – not enough to be seriously worried – just enough to know that he needed those looked at. Sam sighed, they did sting and Dean would not stop pestering him if he refused his older brother's help... he leant back into his seat and relaxed as Dean drove like the wind.

Once they were back in their motel room Dean shoved Sam down onto the nearest bed, propped his legs up on a chair and set about finding his first-aid kit. Sam was pretty much silent whilst Dean prepared the bandages, "You'll need to take off your jeans kiddo, and your top."

Sam frowned, "Fine." he grumbled and began undressing, he sat down in his blue boxer shorts and let Dean inspect his wounds.

Dean smirked and began to clean the wounds, he'd had to patch up Sam's injuries since … well, since forever. "Why do we need this feather anyway?" Dean asked as he worked, "Why don't we just destroy the cup now?"

"It could have latched itself onto plenty other things." Sam explained and winced slightly as Dean touched a particularly sore patch, "They only way we know it'll be dead for sure is to kill it with the feather."

"How do you manage to find us a hunt where we have the girliest way possible to kill the beast?"

"It's not like we're killing it with high heels, although, technically, high heels were originally men's shoes. They weren't for walking at all."

"Well even if we do get the feather who's going to melt it down into bullets? Do the English even have smithies? Take that back, course they do. Just not ones that are going to melt down an artefact into bullets for a couple of American tourists!" Dean muttered angrily and finished tending to his baby brother, ignoring his smart ass comment about shoes.

"You'll think of something." Sam said with a smirk and grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and wandered off into the bathroom to change. He emerged a minute later wearing clean blue jeans and a black T-shirt that showed no sign that any attack had been made on the boy's life an hour earlier.

"Well." Dean slapped his thighs and stood up, "I'm going out for a coffee run, don't you dare touch that goblet again without me there." he warned and glanced at his bundled up jacket, he'd need that to go out. So he took a pair of dirty socks and transferred the goblet to their smelly folds.

"While you're out can you get me some salad?" Sam asked, "I'm gonna book our flight."

"Don't make me throw something at you." his older brother warned and promptly left.

Sam chuckled to himself as Dean's footsteps faded down the hall, he pulled over his laptop and flipped it on.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I'm REALLY sorry that I haven't updated this in ages, I did try but nothing was working and I kept recieving this error message so updating really was impossible until this very moment. Thanks for reading and I once again assure you that in the upcoming chapters things will become a little more interesting and fast paced. I appreciate every one of your views so have a nice day, and sorry once again.**

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"Dean you're overreacting." Sam stated as he watching his elder brother pace back and forth in the airport waiting room.

"Overreacting? Am I? Really?" Dean snapped bitterly and resumed his pacing, "You want anything from the vending machines? I want something from the vending machines. I'll get you something from the vending machines. Don't think vending machines do salad. Do vending machines do salad?"

"Dean."

"Yuh?"

"Shut up."

Dean scowled and wandered off to find a vending machine. They still had just under an hour to wait until their plane landed and would be ready for boarding. If Dean was this agitated about flying when on dry land then how the hell would he cope in the air? Sam shook his head, the only way Dean would survive this mentally was if he slept. His quick footsteps alerted Sam to his return.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?" he asked taking a huge bite out of a chocolate bar.

"When we get on the plane just go to sleep." Sam said, his weary tone indicated that he was tired of Dean's panicking.

"You got any African dreamroot?" he asked and Sam raised an eyebrows "Fine," Dean huffed, "Sleeping pills?" Sam shook his head "Well I do somewhere. But I'll only take one on the condition that you promise to wake me at least three hours before we arrive so that I can make sure you get some sleep too." Dean looked at his brother, his long mane covered his eyes slightly but Dean could still see the dark circles that were beginning to form.

"Fine." Sam agreed, "Deal."

Dean smiled broadly and dug happily into his chocolate bar, "You ever wondered if there are other hunters out there?"

"Dude, we know over a dozen hunters."

"I mean in other countries. How come we've never heard of any except Graham and he's not even a hunter?"

"Maybe they just don't wanna talk to us." Sam groaned, his eyelids were heavy.

"You should get some sleep." Dean advised and Sam looked at his brother, glad the chocolate had calmed him down, "I'll wake you when it's time to board." Sam nodded and spun round on the chair. He stretched his abnormally long frame over the bench and laid his head next to Dean atop of his duffel. Warm eyes were sealed behind closed lids as Sam fell into a light sleep. Just watching his wee brother get some much needed rest was a comfort to Dean, the boy was beginning to look a bit pale with dark rims under his eyes. His floppy brown hair draped over his closed eyes and Dean began going over the information. They hadn't been able to bring any guns however Bobby had assured them that they could stow a few knives in their suitcase. He had also, surprisingly enough, managed to contact an old friend who had moved to London then Edinburgh a decade or so ago, and Bobby had assured the boys that he knew about the supernatural being that were really out there and how to kill them so if, to quote what the older hunter had said to them over the phone: "if you fellas get into any trouble go see old Graham."

"Gate 4, Gatwick London, now boarding." a clear woman's voice rang out through the waiting room via the speakers.

"Sammy." Dean said and shook him awake.

"Huh? What?" Sam gurgled and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Boarding." Dean said as he stood up and swung his duffel over his shoulder, Sam quickly copied and together they strode towards the gate.

Dean began to get agitated again while they waited in line, they were stuck behind a middle-aged woman with two sons, she had blonde hair just like their mother and Sam couldn't help but wonder what their lives would have been like if the demon had never come that night and killed Mary. He pushed the thought away, dwelling on the past was no use to anyone, they had to focus on the here and now. Sam didn't even notice the queue had moved forwards until Dean thumped him on the back of the head. "Hey!" he scowled at his brother who only laughed with a grin spread widely across his face. A pretty mousey haired stewardess asked for their boarding passes and Sam handed them over, she checked them then tore the edge. They walked down into the tunnel, Dean was cracking his knuckles over and over trying to calm himself down. Sam slid a glance at his brother but, failing to think of anything comforting to say, carried on walking.

Once they were aboard the plane and seated, Sam by the window and Dean by the aisle, their duffel bags stored in the overhead compartments and seatbelts buckled, Dean properly realised the seriousness of their flight. They were flying all the way to London, getting a train to Cambridgeshire, but freaking flying to London. They were spending 7 hours in a metal bird over the ocean. How was Sam not freaked?!

"You okay dude?" Sam asked glancing at Dean.

"Do I friggin' look okay?!" Dean snapped and Sam raised his hands in a mock surrender.

"Sorry man. You remember the deal right?"

"Yeah yeah. Sleep. But you wake me up when we're 3 hours away or else."

"I already said I would." Sam replied, he secretly wanted to let Dean sleep for the whole time but he knew that Dean would kick his ass to hell and back if Sam didn't wake him.

"So who is this Graham dude? And since we couldn't bring our guns how are we gonna shoot the thing?"

"Bobby said Graham has some that he'll let us use, or I guess we could melt it down into a knife instead." Sam pondered this for a moment.

"Knife would be easier to use without getting caught by the cops but that means we have to get close to Abandinus."

"Yeah..." Sam sighed, "I guess we'll just have to see what happens. But Graham right, Bobby said he was this hunter who wanted out once he hurt his back pretty badly. But he still helps Bobby out with research from time to time."

Dean nodded, taking it in, "But the dude lives in Edinburgh. How the hell do we get there? Train?"

"Yeah."

"Ugh." Dean groaned, "Trains are boring."

"Dean." Sam said monotonically.

"What?"

"Go to sleep."

"Once we're in the air." Dean said and sure enough, once they were cruising through the blue, cloud spotted skies, he popped a sleeping pill and downed it with a cup of water.

Whilst his big brother slept Sam decided to watch an in-flight movie, he wouldn't be able to use his laptop and uncover anything new on their case whilst in the skies. All that was there were a bunch of rom-coms, kids films, horror movies and one superhero movie. Sam flicked through them and decided to watch "The Amazing Spiderman.", he had lived through enough horror movies. Plus, the characters rarely did anything smart and Sam would end up getting rather annoyed and shout at the screen. He relaxed into the seat and popped a toffee into his mouth.

Sam was jerked awake by the shaking of the plane. Dean was frozen in his seat, a twisted veil of fear covered his face and he was holding onto the armrests as tightly as he could, so tight in fact, that his knuckles jutted out of his hand at sharp angles and were turning white. "This cannot be good. This isn't supposed to happen? Right? RIGHT?" Dean demanded. To answer his question a loud beep sounded throughout the plane, followed by the Captains voice.

"This is your Captain speaking. The winds around the British Isles has started to pick up and our arrival will be delayed by one hour.

"Dean it'll be fine." Sam said in a soothing voice that seemed to almost reassure his brother. Almost.

"You can tell me it'll be fine once we're on solid ground."

"Right, sorry." Sam nodded to himself and tapped out a beat with his toes but stopped upon receiving a murderous glare from the other Winchester. "You know there are quite a few bars near our hotel." he said trying to take Dean's mind off the bumpy ride. It seemed to work.

"I bet the English chicks are really hot." he mumbled to himself as he began to daydream but was brought sharply back into the real world by another shudder. This time the plane began to lean to the left. It soon straightened itself out but within five minutes was leaning over to the right. "Why do people like flying? Why do people like flying? Why do people like flying?" he kept muttering to himself over and over again.

Half an hour later the plane was leaning from side to side like a leaf caught in a light breeze, although this was a gigantic metal bird caught in gale force winds, as it tried to land. The second the wheels touched the ground the pilot knew he was in the clear, landing a plane in these winds had proven to be quite a struggle. A cheer erupted from the passengers followed by a round of applause, evidently, they were just as glad to be back on dry land as he was. The co-pilot guided the plane to it's parking space and aligned the door with the suspended walkway.

The brothers got up, Dean was a little shaky on his legs at first but quickly regained his footing, and grabbed their duffles from the overhead compartments. Sam picked up his backpack from under his seat and slung it over his shoulder. They slowly made their way down the plane, unsuccessfully dodging all the people who insisted on standing up just as they walked past. As they passed the flight attendant she wished them a pleasant stay and received a wink from Dean. They walked down the walkway but, unlike plenty of suits they were in no hurry.

"Still got the goblet?" Sam asked and received a firm nod from Dean. "Good."

"So where to?" he asked and Sam took out the direction he had noted down on a scrap piece of paper.

"Once we get the case we could either go a really complicated way and get lost. Or take a cab. We'll need cash though."

"Already thought of that little brother." Dean said and took out a wad of pound notes.

"Where...?"

"Hustled some pool while you were asleep a couple of days ago and changed it at the airport whilst you were snoozing sleeping beauty."

"Oh." Sam crinkled his brow, "Well then, uh, shall we?" They wandered over to the conveyor belt and luckily their case was one of the first out. Dean picked it up with his large hands and hoisted it into his arms. Together they went out through the sliding doors into the cool London air, the wind was high and blew through Sam's bangs sending them flying all over the place. They saw a business man getting out of a taxi and ran over to it before it drove away. The driver rolled down the windows.

"In you hop lads." he said nodding to both men. They opened the door and clambered in, ducking their heads so as not to hit off the roof. "Where to?" the cabbie asked once they were sat down and buckled in.

"Uh," Sam quickly consulted his scrap of paper, "McArthur Bed and Breakfast, Gower street."

"Okay dokie." he said and pulled away from the curb. "You boys Americans then?" he asked, "Where abouts you from?"

"Kansas." Dean replied chuckling inwardly to himself, the cabbie said "Okay dokie", Dean always found it hilarious when people said that.

"Kansas eh? I got a niece that lives there." he itched his nose, scratching his hand on the stubble covering his chin, "You here for business or pleasure?"

Sam and Dean exchanged look, "A little of both Dean said eventually.

"Always good to have a mix." he said and left the boys to it, switching off the intercom.

"We're kinda here for business Dean."

"What?" Dean shrugged, "I can't hook up with a hot English chick while we're here?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief, typical.

After just over twenty minutes they pulled up outside an old Victorian building, it was four stories tall, the bricks were a dark chocolate brown and the window and door frames were painted white. Once they paid the fare Sam and Dean stepped out onto the pavement, glancing back as the taxi drove away.

"So I think this is it then." Dean said pointing to the semi-circular window above the door. On the glass, scrawled in elegant gold handwriting was the word "McArthur" and then below that "B&B"

"Yup." Sam agreed and headed up the steps. He rang the doorbell and a tinkling tune played through the house. The door bounced open and revealed a friendly looking woman perhaps in her 40s with flaming red hair and eyes so brown they were almost black. Dean had to mutter "Christo." under his breath just to make sure that she wasn't a demon.

"How can I help you?" she asked, her accent wasn't from London but from somewhere a little further North.

"Em we've booked a room." Sam said.

She ushered them in and rummaged around her cluttered desk, "Winchester right? Sam and Dean Winchester?"

"That's us." Dean said with an over exaggerated grin.

"Will you be needing two keys or just the one?" she asked holding up two silver keys.

"Two thanks."

"Follow me." she said cheerily and led them up the narrow staircase. "Here you are." she said and unlocked the door. "Two singles."

"Thanks ma'am." Dean said and took the keys from her.

"Come find me if you need anything." she said with a smile and wandered off down the stairs.

"Well she's happy." Dean said and entered the room, chucking his stuff onto the bed nearest the door. Sam grabbed his key and set his two bags down at the foot of his bed.

"Nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't mean, never mind." Dean muttered and stretched out like a cat on his navy blue duvet while Sam extracted his laptop and charger from his book filled backpack and plugged it in. "Now don't get me wrong, London's cool and all but isn't this feather supposed to be in Cambridge?"

"Cambridgeshire." Sam corrected and flipped on his laptop, drawing up a map. "Near Huntingdon. The feather's on a pedestal by the banks of the River Great Ouse."

"Well considering it's..." he checked his watch but then realised it was still set to America.

"7:20." Sam piped up glancing at the clock in the bottom right hand corner of his screen.

"7:20." Dean said with a big nod, "It's too late to go get the feather now, let's hit the town. Meet the locals."

"By meet the locals you mean get laid."

"Same thing," Dean shrugged, "And how about get some dinner." he placed his hand over his rumbling stomach, "I haven't eaten in hours."

Sam rubbed his own stomach, "That I can agree with. Lets go. There's a _pub _a couple of minutes away." Dean chuckled at the way Sam said "pub" and followed his baby brother out the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**So sorry for the wait, I'll try to upload more often. Thanks for sticking by me. I would love to hear your opinions. Good? Bad? Anything? Feed the dragon! Reviews are what I write for (other than my own enjoyment).  
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_Duward Street, East London_  
_31st August, 03:20a.m._

Marie Newman walked briskly around the corner, past the empty car park of supermarket, and into the middle of Duward Street, the odd car was parked at the side of the road but none were driving across it. She staggered as her silver high heels got caught in ruts in the road. Her hair was done up in a high ponytail and her entire body reeked of alcohol. Unbeknown to the drunk Miss Newman, a pair of eyes watched on. As she wandered down the street on her way to Whitechapel Station she passed the spray-painted sign on the wall that read: "Mary Ann Nichols Row, 1845-1888." "Poor bitch" she thought to herself but was suddenly distracted by a dark figure materialising directly in front of her. "'Scuse me" she said aloud and the figure suddenly vanished, she shook her head, her drunkenness must have been making her see things. In a split second she felt something cold on her throat and collapsed onto the ground, she tried to scream but just ended up spraying blood from the slit in her neck, tears streamed down her face as the pain dragged her into unconsciousness as one more cut was made – just above the previous and much deeper. Within a mere matter of minutes, the life had vanished from her teary eyes as thick red blood continued to ooze from the deep gashes in her neck and onto the pavement.

_McArthur B&B_  
_31st August, 04:00a.m._

Sam awoke gradually as the pale morning light poured in through the thin curtains. Outside the wind howled and screeched and the air was much cooler than a those final days of summer typically should be. That was Britain for you. Sam yawned and stretched his arms above his head, once he was awake he knew there would be no going back to sleep again so he picked up his laptop, typed in the B&B's wifi password once again and decided to check the local news. Tube routes diverted due to trees on the track, many flights cancelled and delayed all over the country – that sucked for their return. But nothing strange and out of the ordinary yet.

_Duward Street, East London_  
_31st August, 5:36 a.m._

Felix hurried along the street, he was only a few minutes late but his boss was a stickler for punctuality. He liked the early shift, making sure everything was in order before customers floated in. It was always quiet, and he liked it. He rushed round the corner and down Duward road where he saw a woman in a short dark dress lying on the floor. He rushed over, a twinging sensation in his gut told him that something was off way before he reached the body. He had unconsciously grabbed his phone in his rush. What he saw next stopped him in his tracks a metre away from the body. "Oh my god..." he whispered, his hand covered his mouth. Her blue dress was covered in deep red stains and her neck was a bitter shade of red. It looked almost completely detached from the body. As fast as his trembling fingers could manage he dialled 999.

"999, which service do you require?" a voice replied almost instantly.

"Police." he could hardly keep his voice steady.

"What is current location?" another voice asked and told him that he was now speaking to a member of the Metropolitan police.

"D-Duward Street."

"What is your emergency?"

"I think someone has been murdered."

"Okay, please remain calm. I need to take your details. An ambulance crew and a team of officers will be with you shortly. In the meantime I need to take your details."

"Okay." Felix said with a tremble in his voice.

"What's your name and age?"

"Felix Davis, I'm 33."

The operator continued to ask him questions as an ambulance arrived on the scene followed by a police car. An officer brought him over to the vehicles and out of the way of the paramedics.

"What did you see?" the young officer asked.

"I, uh, I was walking down quite quickly, I'm late for work see and my boss threatened to fire me if I was late one more time. I saw someone lying on the floor." he watched as the officer took notes "And, and I went to see if they were okay. You find plenty of drunks passed out on the curb right? But then I got there and saw all the blood. I called the police and now I'm talking to you."

"Did you see anybody else?"

Felix shook his head, "The street was empty."

A paramedic quickly came over and asked to speak to the cop. Felix nodded and lent by the wall next to the police car so as to give them some space.

"Dead." she said, her long blonde hair swished to and fro in the breeze. "Both the external and internal carotid arteries were severed along with the external jugular. Died from Cerebral hypoxia two minutes later, of course, we'll have to run a complete autopsy and we'll need to identify the victim. Time of death between 0300 and 0400 hours." The officer and the paramedic walked over to the body. It lay directly beneath the tribute to Mary Ann Nichols.

_McArthur B&B_  
_31st August, 6:30a.m._

Dean woke to the sound of Sam bustling about the room. "Can't you ever just sleep in?"

"Sorry." Sam replied, "Dawn woke me up, you know, sunlight and all."

Dean groaned and rolled onto his stomach, he'd had a couple of beers the previous night, but not too many. Sam had made sure of that. Whilst Dean had been chatting up the fourth girl of the evening, trying desperately to get laid, Sam had been playing darts against a couple of drunk 19 year old students. Needless to say, he had won and won £100. They should have known better than to place a wager against the guy who had just won five games straight.

"Whoa, dude, check this out." Sam turned up the volume on the television and beckoned Dean over.

"At 5:36 this morning the body or 20 year old Marie Newman was discovered below the tribute to Jack the Ripper's first victim – Mary Nichols – she died in the exact same fashion as Mary Nichols, throat slit twice and abdomen cut into after death, police are beginning to wonder, is there a copycat killer on the loose?"

"Sheesh. That's... hmm... unfortunate." Dean remarked and pulled on his jeans and shoes. "Probably not our kind of gig though. Let's just get this job over and done with before we even look into this Jack the Ripper copycat case."

"Fine." Sam said reluctantly, and pulled on his shoes. They headed down for breakfast and to Dean's delight the table was covered in a selection of cereals, pancakes, waffles, jams and spreads and a huge stack of toast.

"Help yourself to anything from the table, would you like any porridge or a full English?"

"I would love a full English." Dean said licking his lips while Sam fixed himself a waffle with icing sugar and strawberries on top.

A large plate covered with sausages, tomatoes, baked beans, eggs sunny side up, mushrooms and a black pudding, which Sam looked at in disgust, arrived in front of Dean and his face lit up like a five year old at a fairground. Mrs McArthur turned on the TV in the corner and Marie Newman's face was on almost every channel. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my..." she whispered.

"It's awful." Sam said solemnly.

"My Mara went to school with her..." just at that moment the doorbell rang and a key turned in the lock. Annabell came into the kitchen, her hair wild and tangled showing clear signs that the wind hadn't let up. "Oh Mara." Mrs McArthur said and wrapped her arms around her daughter, "I heard what happened. Are you alright sweetie? Would you like some tea?"

"Yeah, mum, that'd be great." Mara said and took a seat across from Sam.

"Um I'm Sam, Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean." he offered her his hand over the cereal packets.

"Mara Kennedy." she said and shook his hand, seeing his puzzled look "It's my father's last name. Mum kept her maiden name because of this place." she explained.

"Oh, well I'm um, sorry to hear about your friend."

"Thanks, I only saw her a month ago but her life was going down the drain, too much partying and drinking." she sighed, "Sorry, you don't need to know this."

Mrs McArthur placed a cup of tea down in front of her daughter, "Would you guys like some?"

"No thanks ma'am." Sam said politely and say her visibly blush at being addressed so formally.

"Well, if you change you mind just let me know." she said and walked off into another room.

Mara wrapped her hands around the mug and helped herself to a slice of plain toast.

"What is this?" Dean asked poking the black pudding with his knife.

"Blood." she replied.

"Come again?"

She chuckled "It's a sausage that you make with cooked sheep blood."

"That's ..." Sam searched for a word to describe what he meant without sounding mean.

"Disgusting?" Mara volunteered.

"I was searching for something that didn't sound like I was making fun of it but yes, yes it does."

Dean frowned and prodded it with his fork, he licked his lips once he was done with the last of the beans. "Your mom makes a mean fry up."

"Thanks, I'll be sure to tell her." she took a sip of her tea, "So, I can tell you're American but from whereabouts?"

"Lawrence, Kansas." Sam replied, "But we've lived all over."

"Travelling, must be nice."

"Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't." Dean said and shoved an piece of toast into his mouth while Sam helped himself to an apple.

"Oh, so what brings you to London?" she asked.

"We've got … business in Huntingdon."

"What kind of business?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better or her, the hint of a dimpled smile appearing on her freckled face.

"Just … stuff..." Dean said with tightened lips.

"Sorry," she took another sip of tea, "Didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine, do you happen to know where we can hire a car?"

"You're planning to drive? There's roadworks everywhere."

"Well I guess we'll just have to deal with them then, right Sammy."

"Uh yeah."

Mara shrugged, "Don't say I didn't warn you when you get stuck in two hour long traffic jams." she finished up her tea with a sigh. Dean went back up to their room to find a local car rental. Stealing a car in another country was just plain stupid. Sam however stayed downstairs and chatted to Mara a little bit more. She told him that she should probably get ready as she had to identify the body for the police.

"But don't they already know who it is?" Sam asked.

"Yeah but I they need to be sure, don't wanna bury someone under the wrong gravestone, you know?" she replied and walked with Sam back into the hall.

"I'll carry that for you." he said and picked up her small red suitcase.

"Thanks." she said with a blush and led him up to the top floor, she got out her key and opened the door. The first thing Sam noticed was the semi-circle of salt around the door on the inside of the room. Mara caught him staring, "Oh um, it's, I … dropped a container of salt..."

"No you didn't." he put her case down by the wall and she picked it up, crossed the line and set it down on her be before returning to Sam at the door. The line was far too perfect for this to have been an accident "Are..." he found it too incredible that he could have booked the same bed and breakfast as a hunter, coincidences didn't just happen,"Are you a hunter?"


	5. Chapter 5

"A hunter?!" Dean sounded both shocked and amazed, "She... you're a hunter?" Mara bit her lip and nodded. "How the hell did we manage to book the same B&B as a hunter?"

"I... uh … it's a shock to me too." she said looking around their room, taking in the salt line on the window ledge, the knives on the bedside tables and the ancient books that lay spread out across Sam's bed. Her eyes flitted to the goblet that lay on Dean's bed wrapped up in socks, following her gaze he shoved it into his duffel. "What's that?"

"Nothing you need to know about." Dean said defensively, it wasn't that he didn't trust her... no, actually, he just didn't trust her. "Sam." he said with a warning tone in his voice, "Can I talk to you, in private?"

"Uh sure, Mara could you … ?" he asked implying that she leave the room.

"Oh right, yeah." she shuffled out the door with bouncing steps.

"What is it Dean?" Sam asked as Dean shut the door and pressed his back to it.

"I don't trust her Sammy, come on. What are the chances of running into another hunter? Especially the owner's daughter!"

"Dean –"

"No Sam, you know as well as I do. Coincidences don't just happen."

"That's kind of what a coincidence is..." Sam muttered under his breath.

"What?" Dean asked having not heard what Sam had said.

"Nothing." he muttered running his hand through his fringe. "So what? You think she's a demon or a shape-shifter or something?"

"Something like that, yeah." Dean said nodding his head enthusiastically.

Unbeknown to the Winchesters, Mara leant against the door with her ear pressed up right against it. They were smart she'd give them that. But never in a million years would they figure out who, or rather what, she was. Mara Kennedy had not been in control of her mind and body for a number of days now. When she heard them turn the brass door knob she leapt away and retreated to the stairs with inhuman speed where she sat, a few steps up, a look of complete innocence embroidered upon her freckled face.

"See!" Sam hissed, "She wasn't listening" Dean just scowled at him and Mara pretended not to hear.

"I'll just …" she pointed behind her and scrambled off up the stairs, Dean narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to see into her head, or through her clothes, Sam couldn't be sure although he guessed it was probably the former.

"Come on sasquatch." Dean said, his voice still bitter, "Let's get some food for the road, get a car, shove the package in the trunk and get on with it." he picked up the socks that held the goblet and shoved them into his duffel along with his wallet and knives of different shapes and sizes. Sam frowned and put his laptop under his pillow before pulling on his coat and gigantic shoes. Dean was already downstairs and was looking at the business cards that littered the front desk, taxi, taxi, bus, car rental. He picked up the last one and dialled the number using the phone on the desk. Within fifteen minutes a silver car was parked outside and the driver was inspecting Dean's drivers licence. When the man with the frog-like face left to hail a cab Sam and Dean piled in, flinging the duffel into the back seat, Sam into the right door and Dean into the left.

"Can't you just give me the keys?" Sam protested when Dean asked him to switch but Dean would not relent. He was annoyed and had his doubts about this 'Mara' girl but Sam seemed too stubborn to see it. After five minutes Sam eventually gave in and switched sides with Dean. "Jerk." he muttered as they crossed paths in front of the car. He noticed something was up when his brother didn't give the usual response. "Dean, what's wrong?" he asked with a sigh as he fastened his seatbelt.

"Nothing, give it a rest Sam." Dean snapped and pulled away from the house.

They drove down the M11 in silence for the best part of an hour until Dean finally spoke again. "What if something goes wrong, like we can't get the feather out or something?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Torch it until it's molten enough to stab? That work?"

Dean shrugged, "Well if all goes to pieces, which it normally seems to do, then we'll go for plan b."

Sam took a deep breath and looked at Dean with wide hazel eyes, "Look, I'm sorry about Mara, I know you don't trust her and I know coincidences don't exist around us but I think she's the real deal. Plus, if she was possessed then she wouldn't have been able to cross the salt line in her room."

"Shape-shifters," Dean pointed out "Can cross salt lines."

"Well..."

"How about we just drop this and we'll check when we get back?" Dean said kindly and flicked on the radio. He hated fighting with Sam but they obviously wouldn't see eye to eye on everything all the time. The station he first tuned into was spewing out some theories from Ripperologists in light of the recent murder.

"Marie Newman almost had the same first name as Mary Nichols." a geeky sounding voice said, "They were killed the same way, found in the same place and killed at the same time." Sam sensed they'd tuned in near the end of the discussion, "So my advice is: if you're a woman and your first name is similar to Annie Chapman's, then stay away from Hanbury Street. Especially near where Annie Chapman was found, number 29."

"Okay thank you Greg." the host said and began to play some music, evidently tired of the Rippermania that had gripped the country.

"Looks like Marie has sparked something." Dean remarked.

"You still don't think it's our kind of gig?"

"Maybe, but it could just be a copycat. An insane one at that."

"£10 says you're wrong." Sam said with a slight smirk.

"Fine." Dean muttered hiding a smirk and flicked through the stations until he found something that played, what Dean classed as, actual music.

Sam turned his gaze back to the road map whilst Dean drummed out the beat on the steering wheel, with his fingers. Sam traced the line he had drawn in red marker pen starting at the B&B and ending at Durovigutum. They still had a way to go, little over an hour; Sam decided to take the opportunity to catch up on sleep he sorely needed. Dean watched out the corner of his eye as his wee brother laid his head in the gap between the door and the headrest and fell into a light slumber. God knew the kid needed it.

Sam awoke to silence. The engine had stopped and his brother was nowhere in sight. Panic gripped him tightly, causing him to almost leap out of his seat and bang his floppy mop on the roof. He had his seatbelt off and a gleaming knife in his hand seconds later; only then did he think to look outside. He and the hire car were parked in a medium-sized car park flanked on both sides by business-like BMW's and Fords. Light reflected off the impeccably shiny BMW's black bonnet making Sam avert his eyes. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he heard a loud rap on the window.

Dean.

Thank fuck for that.

"Scare ya Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Where the hell did you go?" Sam hissed, his anger quickly fading.

"To take a piss and grab a burger." he held up the half-finished slab of meat wedged between two muffins as proof.

"Well I'm going to grab some food then seeing as you chose to get nothing for me." Sam said hauling his gigantor self out of the hire-car and strode towards the small service station. He had to duck under low hanging signs that decided to hang right behind the door. Seeing no sign for the toilets he went up to a spotty teen sporting a snapback. "'Scuse me, where's the – "

The teen cut him off, "The gents?" he asked, "That way." he jerked his thumb down the hall, "Behind the giant gummy bear."

Sam mumbled a thanks and took off in the direction the kid had sent him in. Once he was out of sight; the teen's eyes turned black.

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**Thanks for reading, hope you like it. I've recently had a burst of inspiration and have been writing like a maniac; I've also had several ideas for routes this story can take.**

**Please review, I love reading your thoughts!**


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